


The Five Times Seb Found Jim Asleep And The One Time Jim Found Seb Asleep

by selfmadecinderella



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Post-Reichenbach, Pre-Reichenbach, canon character death, post-HLV, sort of, spoilers for HLV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 16:19:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selfmadecinderella/pseuds/selfmadecinderella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your average 5+1 fic. HLV spoilers, and MorMor fluff and feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Five Times Seb Found Jim Asleep And The One Time Jim Found Seb Asleep

**Author's Note:**

> This particular plot bunny has been hopping around in my head for ages, so I finally grabbed my gun and made a nice ol' rabbit pie out of it yesterday when I had some free study time at school. Enjoy!

 

**One month before**

The first time, you are asleep at your desk. You're head is lay on your papers, and even though you are asleep, you don't look peaceful. In our three years, I've never once seen you look peaceful. 

Part of me wants to lean down and kiss you, and perhaps wake you, but you are beautiful while you are sleeping and so I let you sleep. Passing to the desk, I stand watching you for a moment before I kneel a little, manoeuvring you into my arms, and you, surprisingly (for you're usual a very light sleeper), do not stir as I lift you and carry you to the bed. 

It is not until I leave you beneath the covers of the bed, in fact, that your eyes open, and I don't realise you are awake until I hear your voice drowsily slurring my name. 

"Sebby?"

At this I turn to see you half-opening your eyes, gazing up at me. 

"Come to bed." It is not with the usual beckoning that you say this, it is something softer, sleep-deprived, and wanting in a thoroughly different way. And for this it's irresistible, and so I undress to only my underwear and climb into bed beside you. You pull me close, lazily, but I follow into your embrace and wrap my arms around you as you rest against me. Your breathing is calm and loud and comforting, and and you fall asleep just before I do. 

That's the first time.

**Three weeks before**  

The second time, you're on the couch. The television is on, and you are oblivious. You stir at the sound of the door closing, and I often forget what a light sleeper you are.

"It's me, Jim," I say reassuringly. 

"Hey."

I sit on the edge of the sofa where you are (were) sleeping. I press a kiss against your temple and you sit up. 

"Are you ok?" I ask.

"Fine, I just - I'm just shattered," you say. 

"Come on," I say, standing up and offering a hand. You nod in agreement and take it, staggering a little to your feet. I go to move but you put your arms around me loosely, and so I do not move, and I am worried.

"Hey, is everything ok?" I ask. You do not answer, your only response being to give a contented hum when I raise my hand to your hair. Eventually you let me lead you to the bedroom, and again you fall asleep before I do. I watch. I worry. I know something is wrong.

**One week before**

The third time we are lying on the sofa together, and we're watching some film, and it's pretty dull, but I don't notice because you are asleep (again), this time on the couch (again), but you are curled up to me and muttering in your sleep, nothing coherent. I don't wake you, because I'm worried about you lately, and I hope that while you're asleep, your mind isn't full of these terrifying, formidable thoughts you never share with me.

And I'm grateful for moments when you are this close to me, clinging to my clothes as you sleep. See, I always need to feel that you need me. Sometimes your tell me that you do. It's our version of love.

I reach for a blanket which is draped over the back of the couch, still trying (and managing) not to disturb you, and I settle it over us. It's a little warmer like that.

**The night before**

I'm late home tonight, and if the last few weeks are any indication, you'll be asleep.

For the fourth time, as I suspected, you are asleep. It doesn't register at first when I stumble into our bedroom in the dark, bruised from a bit of a fight, but with no serious damage. I glance upon the bed and in the dark, I can just about see your sleeping lying on the bed. It takes a minute to realise two things; first of all, that you are not, in fact, asleep; and that second of all, you are not on your usual side of the bed. 

"Hey," I say, when I realise you're awake. 

"You're home." I tentatively climb into bed beside you, on your side of the bed, and you seem to instinctively roll over to rest your head on my chest. You breathe deeply and seem to relax against me. You are tracing the pattern of a scar on my shoulder with your finger, and it's a little sensitive to the touch of your cold hand, but I don't mind.

"Jim, is everything ok?"

"Shh." After a minute, you speak. "I fell asleep on your side of the bed. I, uh - it smelled of you."

This strikes a dissonant, tuneless chord with me, and I have to ask.

"Jim, what is going on with you? You're- " I was about to say that you're scaring me, and that I wish you would talk to me, and I stop myself.

You refuse to answer, and kiss me instead.

"Sebby, there's nothing. Go to sleep." 

You're lying, I want to say. You're lying, and you won't tell me what's wrong, and I want you to tell me, because I love you and I wish you would talk to me, but you won't, you refuse to talk to me, because you are too damn stubborn, and so I keep my mouth shut.

Instead, I reciprocate your kiss, I pull you as close as I can, and again, you fall asleep before I do.

**The morning after**

No.

No, no, no.

Please, no, I say, and I am pleading to nothing and no one, but I am pleading all the same, as the sheet is pulled back to reveal the face I had promised myself would not be your. I fall instantly to my knees, and every inch of my body is shaking, and you are sleeping, oblivious, and I want, more than I ever have, to carry you to our bed, to fall asleep next to you, and, _oh god, Jim, what the hell have you done?_

I walk home and I feel the cold pressing against my scars, and I collapse onto our bed at home and I let out a scream, and I'm facing something a little like a an abyss, and it is in fact a future that I will spend without you, and I find myself crying, and I curl up to your side of the bed, and God, it smells of you, and I inhale that smell and every memory of you seems to rush back, and _I miss you. Come back Jim, because, Christ, I miss you._  

**The one time Jim found Seb asleep**

_I am vaguely aware in some way that I am dreaming, but my mind is willing to accept this dream as reality, as it always is when I dream about you. You are dreaming too, I assume, when you are asleep in my arms, and I run my fingers through your hair and I just let you sleep, and I hold you, and dear God, I love you._

And I am awake, and I am sure this is an extension of my dream as you are sat on the bed beside me, and I don't know what to say, because I had hoped for years that you would not be dead, and now that you are before me, I know it does not take your genius to realise that you are not, and for that I want to kill you.

So I think I try. I sit up, I reach over, I push you to your feet and awkwardly I come to mine and I hit you, I hit you hard in the face, I hit you hard and you recoil, and I stare at you and I cannot really _look_ at you, and I cannot take you in, take in the vision of you. I go to hit you again and you are quick so I miss and when I look at you again I fall to my knees. 

 You say something. I say something unrelated. I don't remember what it is that either of us say, but you kneel before me and I want to hurt you again, but instead I pull you into my arms.

"Jesus Christ, Jim, what the fuck?"

"Seb, I- 

"Shut the fuck up." I tangle my fingers in your hair, and I breathe in your scent, and it hasn't changed, and kiss your temples and forehead and the kisses move to your lips and you kiss back and break away to say something and I tell you the shut up again, and for a long time we do not speak but you bury your face in my shoulder. 

We somehow end up on the bed, and somehow you are kissing me, and undressing me, and fucking me, and I don't think I have forgiven you, but I let you kiss me and fuck me and hold me and eventually we fall asleep together, and my last thought before I fall asleep is that you owe me a fucking explanation, and that you are home. 

 


End file.
